A slow descent into madness

She becomes a drunk,
a lost semblance to her
former being. Life
becomes the next drink,
the next drink, the
next man, the next
squandering of rent.

She’s like a tattered painting,
fading, but with promise of
restoration, but without a
guiding hand, crumbles to
oily dust. And once the
cracking becomes skin-replacement,
she’s lost. Somberly, she
takes her life, a breathless poem
without a song.

2 responses to “When A Beautiful Woman Takes To Drink”

Thank you so much! Sorry it took so long to get back to you. I’ve neglected my poor little blog during the semester, but now I’ll have plenty of time to get more work on here. Again, I am so glad that you really liked it. Thank you for reblogging.